Glimpse of a Dream
by T-c3
Summary: future!fic - Phillipa is too curious for her own good.


Disclaimer: All I own are three ticket stubs with the name "Inception" on them.

Note: There is slash, although it's not the focus of the story.

* * *

Eames tried to keep his apprehension down when he saw the car pull up. They were early, about twenty minutes too early, and Arthur was still under. He knew it was a bad idea to cut it so close, but they had Ariadne's schedule to work around. His mind buzzed with all the possible explanations for Arthur's absence, and he didn't settle on one until the doorbell rang. Cursing to himself, Eames smoothed out his shirt—he picked up that habit from Arthur years ago—and calmly walked to the door.

Two radiant faces greeted him before a small body nearly knocked him over with a hug. Eames had to laugh. "It's good to see you, too, James."

"We haven't seen you in _forever_, Uncle Eames," the boy spoke into his shirt

Eames looked up at Cobb with amusement, while Cobb just shrugged.

"I've stopped trying to get them to use your first name. They still think 'Eames' sounds 'cooler.'"

"His first name is too boring," Phillipa said candidly.

Cobb frowned at her, but before he could say anything, Eames full-heartedly agreed.

"I think I won the bet," Eames said as he held out his hand, rubbing three fingers together.

Cobb shook his head, a small grin forming on his lips. "I'm sorry about the time. I heard there's a lot of traffic in our direction, so we wanted to leave earlier."

"Mmm. Where is the lovely Jessica, by the way?" Eames asked as he ushered the kids inside, telling them there's snacks waiting in the kitchen. "I do miss seeing her pretty face."

Now the grin was impossible to miss. "Don't you have your own pretty face to look at?"

"Ah, well, Arthur's been hiding it from me lately. Busy man, as always. Sometimes makes me wish I was a point man, since a forger isn't always needed. He gets a lot more action than I do."

Amused, Cobb replied, "I can imagine. Jessica's back at the house, finishing up getting ready."

"I would make some comment about how women take decades to get ready to go out anywhere, but I have the same problem with him."

"I'm not surprised. Where is Arthur anyway? I thought he said he didn't have any jobs this week."

Eames shrugged. "He doesn't. He's out running an errand. You _are_ early, remember?" It was a good thing Eames was a natural when it came to lying, although he wasn't sure if Cobb bought it, the way he hesitated a moment before speaking again.

"Yeah." Glancing at his watch, he continued, "We shouldn't be too late. The reservation is at 7:30."

"Don't worry about it. You have all the nasty fun you want afterwards. I feel like I haven't seen the kids in years. Phillipa has gotten so tall. You better keep an eye out, Cobb. The boys are going to start making their moves on her soon."

"She's only fifteen, Eames."

"Exactly. Now run along." He shooed him away with one hand, backing into the doorway. "Everything will be fine here."

"Thank you, Eames," Cobb said with sincerity, dropping all traces of amusement. "I know you two are busy."

Eames shot him a fond smile. "Anything for my dear old friend."

After watching Cobb drive off, Eames ran a hand through his hair, making a mental note to get it cut soon. Arthur would be making that a physical note within a week, he was sure. Heading off to the kitchen, he had to chuckle at hearing the siblings start to bicker with one another.

"Now, children, what do you want to do with your ol' Uncle Eames today?" he asked cheerfully as he leaned his elbows on the counter.

"Where's Uncle Arthur?" Phillipa piped up almost immediately.

The young girl had attached herself to Arthur at an early age. Cobb had said it was because Arthur had a calming effect on her, him being so organized and precise in everything he did. Although, to Eames, there were very few moments where he could understand how Arthur could have a calming effect on anyone. While he loved the man dearly, Arthur could be infuriating without even trying. Whatever the reason, Eames didn't mind that Phillipa clearly favored Arthur over him. She did manage to bring out the best in the younger man when they were together.

Eames pretended he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you wound me so!"

She rolled her eyes, but she did crack a tiny smile. "I love you, too. Is he out?"

Coming back to himself, he nodded. "He should be back shortly." Eames glanced at his watch. _In nine minutes and thirty-five seconds to be exact._ He would have to let Arthur know somehow about the lie.

"Tell us a story!" James said around a mouthful of chips. "Have you been anywhere cool since the last time we saw you?"

Ah, James. While Phillipa favored Arthur, the young boy was in awe of Eames. James made it a habit of calling him his favorite uncle, even when in front of his real uncles. Eames thought Arthur was going to die of cardiac arrest the last time that happened.

"Why, yes I have."

o-o-o

Phillipa couldn't help but roll her eyes again as her eccentric uncle began to tell James about his time spent in Java, exaggerating his voice and gesticulating wildly. She had to admit that he could tell a good story, but she wasn't in the mood. Plus, she was older now, and sometimes Eames still talked to her like she was ten years old. She was fifteen now, almost a woman. She really just wanted to have a nice chat with Arthur, maybe sip some tea as they talk about whatever came to them.

Getting up from her stool at the counter, Phillipa didn't bother excusing herself, for she wouldn't be heard anyway. She decided to wonder around. Having only been in their new house once before, she hadn't gotten a good feel for its surroundings yet. Phillipa understood she was snooping, but her curiosity was too strong. It was a small house, but she knew they didn't need anything big and extravagant. They were always traveling because of their work and only really stayed at home for weeks at a time. At least, that was how it'd been for the past year or two. She still wasn't quite sure what they did for a living, only that it made them a lot of money—she could tell from Arthur's fancy suits and Eames's sports car—and had them traveling all over the world. The last time she tried asking exactly what they did, the only real answer she got was that they did freelance work for big corporations. Eames made it sound like it was all top secret, but she got the feeling from Arthur that they just didn't want to talk about it with her. Phillipa knew she'd get the truth out of them one day.

To her disappointment, the house was very ordinary. She hoped to find something exciting, maybe something related to their work. But everything Phillipa saw was part of the typical married couple setting, despite Arthur and Eames being neither typical nor married. As she was making her way back to the kitchen, admitting defeat, she noticed something odd. All of the doors in the house were open, save for the closets, so why was this one closed? The location of it didn't make her think it was another closet. Putting her ear against the cool wood, she couldn't hear a thing. Phillipa cautiously opened the door, finding it unlocked. Behind it were stairs that obviously led to the basement. She wasn't very fond of basements, but she noticed the light was on. And when she listened closely, she could hear a soft whirring sound.

Quietly closing the door behind her, Phillipa tiptoed down the stairs, and what she saw made her eyes nearly bug out of her head. There was Arthur slouched on a lawn chair, hooked up to some machine in a metal briefcase. Ariadne was there as well, hooked up to the same machine. Both appeared to be asleep. She forgot to be mad at Eames for lying and instead walked over to the strange device that she realized was the source of peculiar sound.

Just as she was about to touch it, Arthur abruptly sat up.

o-o-o

"Time's about to run out," Arthur said to Ariadne as he checked his watch.

"Yeah, I think we're done here anyway."

"Thanks for your help." He smiled at her, putting his hands in his pockets. "These designs are great."

She returned his smile, looking like the young college grad from their early days as partners. Arthur always enjoyed sharing dreams with her.

Back in reality again, Arthur slowly opened his eyes. It took him a few seconds to realize someone was in the room with them. Before he could process who it was, he shot upright and was about to get into a defensive stance. But the squeak he heard from the startled figure made him pause, and he soon recognized who it was.

"Phillipa?"

It was Ariadne who spoke. Arthur's mind was going at lightning speed. He had to come up with an explanation. Cobb would slaughter him if he told his daughter about dream sharing.

The teenager looked nervous, almost afraid, but she was trying to cover it up. "What are you guys doing?"

"We're insomniacs," Arthur stated as calmly as he could, taking the line out of his wrist. "That machine helps us sleep."

"Why don't you use it at night?"

He hesitated, and he knew she saw that.

Ariadne cut in, probably noticing his pause as well. "It gives us a dose of a drug that doesn't kick in until hours later. We need it a few times a week to help us function in our daily lives. I've been on a tight schedule, so this was the only time we could go under today."

Phillipa stared at them for a moment, suspicion written clearly on her face, making Arthur cringe inwardly. He was going to pay for this. He just hoped it wouldn't be in the form of Cobb shooting his knees out in a dream. His old friend had long retired from the business, but Arthur had a gut feeling he'd make an exception in this case.

"Okay . . . Is this embarrassing or something? Why did Uncle Eames lie about where you were?"

He couldn't be mad at Eames. The man had to say something about why Arthur wasn't there. Cobb must have dropped his kids off early.

"It's easy to get addicted," Ariadne said as she wound up the cords. "It's not something kids should really know about. Sorry. We never meant for you find out like this."

Arthur could kiss Ariadne for knowing exactly what to say. He could feel himself relax as he saw the skepticism drain from Phillipa's eyes. Smiling, he got off the chair and held his arms out. "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while."

Phillipa immediately brightened and fell into his hug. "I've missed you, Uncle Arthur." Letting him go, she turned to Ariadne and gave her a quick hug. "And I just saw you last week," she said with a laugh.

During the brief hug, Ariadne and Arthur shared a look, both thankful at how well that ended.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested after Ariadne put the briefcase away. "I'm sure they're wondering where you disappeared to."

After reaching the top of the stairs, Eames rounded the corner and visibly paled when he saw Ariadne shut the basement door. Arthur gave a quick shake of his head, meaning to silence the question he knew Eames wanted to ask. Instead, the older man effortlessly fell back into his "Uncle Eames" persona. "I was looking all over for you, Phillipa. I was starting to wonder if there was a portal in the house I didn't know about."

She snorted at that. "Next time, don't lie."

Eames' eyes met Arthur's for a second before he apologized and promised never to do it again. Except that was what Eames did for a living. He was bound to lie to her time and again. Arthur suppressed a sigh. He knew it was going to get harder to hide things from the kids as they got older. Realistically, if Cobb still wanted all of them to have a part in his children's lives, they'd have to be told about dream sharing. He wasn't about to bring that up with Cobb just yet, though. Cobb had finally found someone he could be happy with, and Arthur wasn't about to go messing up his life now.

"Where's James?" Ariadne asked.

"Kitchen. Eating. The boy really packs it away."

Ariadne walked towards the kitchen, probably to say hello and goodbye.

She got to see the kids a lot more often than the rest of the team. She had a real job and only did the dream-share work on the side since she just couldn't let it go. Because of her looser connecting to that line of work, Cobb let her baby-sit most of the time. Plus, she was in the area more than everyone else was.

Yusuf stayed mostly in Africa and only worked with them when their schedules allowed it. Saito mostly kept to himself in Japan, but he always sent the children gifts for their birthdays. Arthur was surprised about the man's kindness until Cobb explained what happened in limbo. As for himself and Eames, they were constantly working on dream-share projects. They had assembled a few reliable teams throughout the years in different parts of the world, and Arthur had never enjoyed his work more than he did now. Well, he always missed working with Cobb, but that was out of the question, of course.

Ariadne returned and started saying her goodbyes.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Phillipa asked.

"Yeah, sorry, kiddo." She flashed an apologetic smile. "I have somewhere I need to be. But I'll definitely be seeing you next week. Nothing can stop me from coming to your dance recital."

Eames visibly perked up. "Wait. Dance recital? There's a dance recital? Why was I not informed?"

Arthur patted him on the shoulder. "I told you about it last month. I'm afraid you're getting senile in your old age."

"What? I'm only a few years older than you!"

Arthur chuckled, then walked Ariadne to the door. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?" he whispered to her.

"We have to be more careful."

He nodded, expression turning serious. "Yeah, but we knew this would happen one day. Cobb was willing to risk it."

"I'm glad he was," Ariadne replied as she walked out.

Just after closing the door, Arthur looked down at his wrist. He couldn't imagine bringing those kids into that world. Ariadne really hadn't lied. It was so easy to get addicted to pure creation. Arthur would do anything to keep them away from it, to keep them grounded in reality.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The incident in the basement was never brought up again, and Arthur prayed—too bad he was an atheist—that Phillipa wouldn't mention it to her father. When Cobb came around to pick them up, though, she was too tired to say more than "goodbye" and "you guys are awesome."

o-o-o

"See? Not a word," Eames said reassuringly.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes, looking exhausted, even with it not being terribly late. "Doesn't mean she won't say anything later."

Slinging an arm around his partner's shoulders, Eames leaned in to press a quick kiss to the man's temple. Really, he worried too much all the bloody time. Arthur knew how to handle Cobb when he got emotional. If anyone should've been worried, it was Eames. But he knew it would turn out fine in the end. He just had to convince Arthur of that.


End file.
